


Deja Vu

by thegirlwiththemouseyhair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Gay Character, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththemouseyhair/pseuds/thegirlwiththemouseyhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Tito11's Bring Your Fandom to Work (or school) meme. This fic does both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu

Deja Vu

_College_

There was a rich, wet-earth smell coming in from the open door, because students were constantly streaming in and out and tramping over the sloping lawn between the Old and the New Buildings. The earthy smell mingled with the scents from the coffee shop – buttered cookies and sickening-sweet caramel or pumpkin or whatever sorts of coffees they were pushing at this time of year. The mix of scents reminded Thomas that his stomach was growling. He’d had no time to eat that morning. Between helping his father open the shop and finishing the long, bitter e-mail to Philip that he still had not sent, eating just hadn’t been a priority.

Getting to class was difficult enough. Hughes had already taken him aside twice to lecture him about being on time. Thomas had nodded and bitten back the sarcastic retort that had been on the tip of his tongue. But he hadn’t said anything important, about his dad’s illness or anything else, either.

Thomas pulled back the sleeve of his coat to look at his watch. He still had some time. With a little sigh of relief, he unbuttoned the wool coat and turned back toward the coffee shop.

The wing was slightly more crowded than it should have been at this time. Thomas frowned and looked around him. They’d set up some tables in the centre of the room, half way between the coffee shop and the student union office. Thomas didn’t know who ‘they’ were and couldn’t think what was going on, but then, he didn’t really care. He kept his head down. What was the point in getting involved in other people’s causes? He had enough going on already.

The line at the coffee shop was just long enough for Thomas to be glaring daggers at the staff by the time he got through it. He was right to be; he didn’t need another lecture from another professor about lateness, and accepted his coffee and croissant with the curtest of nods.

As he headed back toward the door, he realized what the fuss was about. Some veterans group had set themselves up at the table selling poppies; it was November, though Thomas had barely noticed. Not veterans, he realized as he passed – current soldiers or some such; they were too young for anything else. _Right_ , Thomas thought. _Oh well._

He was about to continue on his way when one of the soldiers turned slightly and met Thomas’s eye.

Thomas blinked. His whole body seemed to grow cold, even though he was wearing a heavy coat in the middle of a crowded room. But he could swear he knew that young man. The curled, light brown hair, the sharp angles of his thin face, the grey eyes – they were almost as familiar to Thomas as his own features, though he didn`t think he’d ever _seen_ this boy before. His heart started to pound against his ribs.

Then the young man frowned at Thomas and turned away. Thomas bit his lip. He always did come on too strong and make the men he was attracted to upset or uncomfortable. Most of them were straight anyway and none too happy about his staring. Thomas had learned that the hard way.

Still, he had really thought there was something _more_ , this time – something strange. A connection between the two of them…

 _Whatever_ , Thomas thought as he hurried down the hall and out of the Old Building. But he hung his head just the same. He thought he wanted a cigarette, reached into his pocket, then turned his head to look over his shoulder at the other building again. When he went on he realized he had actually forgotten about the cigarette.

_Grad School_

Thomas should have known better. He should have known you couldn’t force someone out, and if they couldn’t deal with themselves – well – all sorts of bad things were liable to happen when you got involved with fucked up closet cases. But Jimmy was lovely.

It had felt so right, too, as if they’d known each other all their lives or longer. Thomas had thought they were on their way to becoming best friends as well as boyfriends. Some part of him had realized it was a horrible idea, getting involved with a student of his, but they weren’t that far apart in age and it was Professor Carson, not Thomas, a lowly TA, who decided the final grades for the class…

Two mediations and one hearing before the Sexual Harassment Committee later, Thomas found himself in Carson’s office getting sacked.

“But I need the job,” Thomas said. His stomach had turned to ash inside him. If he didn’t have money coming in, he wouldn’t be able to finish this degree… “I have no funding except a guaranteed position – ”

“Then you should have thought of that before engaging in this outrageous conduct,” Carson snapped.

Thomas froze. He opened his mouth, but could not speak for a long moment.

“Look,” he said at last, “I know it looks like I was in the wrong, but I thought it was a mutual thing, and I wouldn’t…” _I would never do_ him _any harm,_ he thought, but that was far too sentimental to tell Carson, who had never been sympathetic toward Thomas. “It _was_ a mutual thing.”

Carson shook his head and turned back to his bookshelf. Thomas felt panic grip him.

“Look, I think he’s overreacting. He must have friends telling him it’d – it’d be a disaster to look like he’s gay, or something, and if I could just speak to him again –”

Carson actually ignored him. Thomas shut his mouth, sure that the worst was coming. _Bastard_ , he thought. His face went hot, then cold.

Carson finally looked up at him again. His jaw was set into that grim, hard expression that was worse than red-hot rage.

“You’ve had more than enough opportunities to air your side of the story,” Carson said. “Is your judgment so poor? Do you really think I or anyone in this faculty can allow you another chance to speak to him, to intimidate him, alone?”

Thomas bit his lip.

“If it had been with a girl,” he asked, unable to help himself, “would it have been different?”

It would have been. Thomas _knew_ that, though he had no way to prove it. Your supervisor was supposed to help you – and Carson had done so little of that – Thomas thought he should go to the Human Rights Office, but Jimmy had already brought them round to his side – Jimmy and whoever the fuck was egging him on…

Now Carson did turn red.

“How dare you,” he spat.

And that was it.

As he walked out of Carson’s office struggling to blink back the tears, and sure this was the end of his career, Thomas couldn’t help feeling that he’d been in this situation before. Maybe he’d just been having nightmares about how badly things could go, these last few weeks.

It was the least of his problems now.

_Parliament_

He’d never wanted to end up here. Office jobs weren’t his thing, and Thomas had always dreamed of a position where he could set his own agenda, not be at other people’s beck and call. But the pay was good. The work was more interesting than some places, too. He could have done worse.

Thomas leaned back in his chair and glared at Branson’s e-mail. _Mr._ Branson – the clients were all Mr. or Ms., even when they were younger than Thomas himself and had done nothing with their lives except get elected in some useless riding, like Branson. God, the man didn’t take the hint. Thomas had far more important things to do than research five Tom Branson do-gooder projects a week. He was a novice third party MP; nothing ever _came_ of his ideas anyway.

“Don’t make me late for committee,” Sarah said, appearing in the doorway of Thomas’s office. He jumped a little.

“More nonsense requests from Mr. Branson,” he said by way of apology. At least he could count on Sarah to scowl with him.

“You’d think the Director would say something,” she muttered, true to form. “What do we do all those dockets for, if not to let the Director know who’s wasting our time?”

Thomas nodded. Then he threw on his jacket, grabbed his laptop, and followed Sarah out of the office. The walk might do him good. More importantly, he could relax with a cigarette on the way. They both could.

*

Thomas hadn’t actually been in Committee for a while. His committee had stopped sitting for a few months over a minor sex scandal. The Chair, Mr. Gregson, had become involved with the daughter of a Conservative Member Robert Grantham. The whole thing had gotten a little too public and of course stodgy old Grantham hadn’t been too happy. There’d been some financial aspect to it, too. Edith Grantham had bought over Gregson’s media company at a steal when he got elected, which had drawn criticism. Maybe it wasn’t _great_ , but the politicians had as usual made a mountain out of a molehill. To Thomas, who’d been turfed out of his doctoral degree for blowing a student of his, the whole thing was laughable.

Sarah and Thomas took their places in the corner of the table that was reserved for the research staff. Thomas wanted to help himself to something to eat – the free lunches were one of the few perks of noon Committee meetings – but there was a rule that the researchers couldn’t eat until the Members were done, so he busied himself with his laptop instead.

When he looked up, the witnesses had already arrived.

Thomas’s jaw dropped. He _recognized_ the young man who was standing across the table from him, holding the harness of a black Labrador and waiting to speak on behalf of – apparently – Blind Veterans, Thomas saw as he looked down at the agenda. There was an older woman with him from the organization; the agenda made it quite clear that she must be Isobel Crawley and the young man must be Lieutenant Edward Courtenay.

The name was half-strange, half-familiar to Thomas, as if he’d heard it in a dream. Maybe he was just being sentimental: Courtenay was very good-looking, despite the scarring on his face. And yet…

He wasn’t the best speaker, Lieutenant Courtenay. He kept his voice very low, and would let sentences trail off, forcing Ms. Crawley to jump in from time to time and finish for him. (She had no problem with that, however. In fact, she seemed rather gleeful whenever he gave her a chance to take over.) But Thomas was mesmerized. His hands were cold as he typed his notes. His mouth was dry, too; at least he was allowed a glass of water. It was _weird_ , but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knewLieutenant Courtenay, that this man was, or had been, important to him somehow.

Halfway through their presentation, Thomas remembered something. He’d been in his first year of college when he’d seen this young man, looking full of potential in almost the same uniform but with no scars. They’d both had more potential back then.

Yet that couldn’t explain the feeling of, not just attraction, but connection. Thomas knew he was staring at the other man more than he should be. He grimaced when he felt Sarah elbow him, and glanced over to scowl at her. Then he lost himself in Lieutenant Courtenay’s story again.

“I’m sorry, but you only have two more minutes,” Gregson cut in.

Lieutenant Courtenay paused again and turned his head down, as if to look away even though he couldn’t actually _see_ Gregson. Thomas wanted to shoot Gregson a glare; he only just caught himself.

 _For fuck’s sake,_ he thought, _a little sensitivity? Fucking Members…_

He thought the hearing would never end. Even when it did, Thomas was supposed to go over things with Gregson and any of the Members who might have questions to send his or Sarah’s way. That, however, was beyond him today. He did enough work for these people.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, nodding to Gregson at soon as the hearing finished, “unusually, I’ve got another appointment that I can’t miss.”

Sarah shook her head. Happily, Gregson didn’t notice the strange stares they exchanged over his head, and Thomas all but ran from the chamber to follow Lieutenant Courtenay before the man could disappear on him.

“Lieutenant,” Thomas called. The word echoed off the stone walls and vaulted ceiling, making Thomas wish he hadn’t spoken quite so loudly.

“Can I help you?” the woman, Ms. Crawley, asked. Thomas saw Lieutenant Courtenay grit his teeth, just a little, as if her jumping to his defense annoyed him. It wouldn’t surprise Thomas. She’d been doing it all day.

Thomas forced a smile.

“I’d just like a word with the Lieutenant,” Thomas said.

“Go ahead, Isobel,” Courtenay said. He laid one hand on his dog’s head and tried to turn his face toward the sound of Thomas’s voice. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Mr…”

“Thomas,” Thomas said. “Thomas Barrow. I’m a research assistant with the Library. I…”

 _Fuck_ , Thomas thought. He hadn’t planned this far ahead when he ran out of the Chamber. What was he supposed to say? ‘ _I liked your presentation?’_ It wasn’t the sort of thing you liked – he’d been talking about some awful experiences. _You’re beautiful; let’s go for coffee sometime?_ The man was almost certainly straight. Those military types always were, especially the good-looking ones.

“I think we _have_ met, somewhere,” Thomas said. It was the least stupid option – or at least it started off all right. He knew better than to get into the past life or love at first sight nonsense.

“Have we?” Lieutenant Courtenay asked.

“– College,” Thomas said, wondering if the name of his old school would mean anything to the other man, “in November ‘98, I think. You were doing the poppy drive or something…”

“Ah,” Lieutenant Courtenay said, knitting his brows together. “That sounds plausible. Well remembered.”

Silence fell between them. Lieutenant Courtenay continued to smile in Thomas’s direction, though Thomas thought it was a weak smile, as if he were wondering why a stranger was bothering him like this. _Fuck_. Thomas felt his face growing hot. You didn’t just make a pass at someone under these circumstances.

“It was – very good of you to share the things you did,” Thomas added to stall for time. Then he bit his tongue, afraid that the words sounded false. He was out of practice being sympathetic toward people.

“Thanks,” Lieutenant Courtenay said, absently moving his slim hand downward to stroke the dog’s glossy fur.

Thomas bit his lip. His shoes echoed on the stone as he took a step backwards.

“I guess you’d better be going,” he murmured, though his chest was tight. _For fuck’s sake_ , he told himself, _get a grip. You don’t even know him. You might have met him for one minute years ago, but that’s all._ He knew Sarah would be absolutely scathing if she caught on. He’d deserve it too. He was being absurd.

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time – Lieutenant…”

“Edward, please,” the other man said. He frowned. “And I really don’t mind. But I could swear I recognize your voice – are you sure that’s the only time we might have met?”

Thomas blinked in surprise.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe not…”

Edward’s face flushed. Thomas wondered for a moment if he had the same nagging feeling. Perhaps he did, because he reached into a pocket, pulled out a business card, and offered it to Thomas.

“I’ve more than enough of these to spare on – social calls,” he said. “We can try to figure out how we know each other, since we both think we do and the incident at your College all those years ago doesn’t seem to cover it. If you’re like me it’ll drive you mad until you figure it out.”

“Yeah, I’d definitely like to talk more,” Thomas replied. He reached forward to shake Edward’s hand. The touch made his skin tingle.

A moment passed before Thomas realized he’d been holding onto Edward for far too long. He let his hand drop and murmured an apology.

“Let’s, um, be in touch,” Edward said, ignoring the awkwardness.

“Yeah. I’ll – see you around.”

He felt rather dazed as he watched Edward and the black dog hurry away from him down the grey corridor.


End file.
